


Master Plan Fallout

by myredturtle



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU from Master Plan, Brief mention of historical canon statutory rape, Gen, Season two tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 19:36:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9919085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myredturtle/pseuds/myredturtle
Summary: Five conversations that Stiles might have had after the season two finale.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Alinora Malina for a wonderful beta job! Any mistakes remaining are mine.
> 
> Please be aware that I don’t like Scott, and I’m not that fond of Allison either. This story is a result of the issues at the end of S2 that weren’t resolved to my liking. The show tends to either gloss over likely consequences or ignore them utterly. This story was an opportunity for me to work through some of my frustration.

It wasn’t until over a week had gone by after the showdown with Gerard that Stiles finally managed to hear the full story of what had gone down in the warehouse before he and Lydia got there. Isaac and Peter had dropped by to discuss some suspicious activity in the woods since Stiles had a copy of the Argent Bestiary.

Stiles had agreed to do the research in the hope of fostering better relations between the two groups, and when he’d commented idly that he hadn’t yet been filled in, Isaac was only too eager to share. All the sordid details poured out of him in a rush, as though he’d been hoping to talk about it with someone for ages. In return, Stiles told Isaac and Peter what exactly had been happening to Erica and Boyd in the Argent basement.

“But Scott said that she didn’t really mean it,” Isaac said when Stiles had mentioned Allison’s part in capturing them.

“Scott is invested in regaining sex privileges,” Stiles said dismissively. “Also, it wasn’t _him_ that was strung up and tortured for days, so he’s utilising his selective amnesia.”

“But she was very upset about her mother,” Isaac said tentatively. “Her grandfather took advantage of her grief.”

Stiles snorted. “I don’t care _how_ upset she was, torture is never acceptable. And even if she’s stupid enough to believe her werewolf-hating family when they point the finger at Derek and blame it all on him, that was no excuse to go after all of the _other_ werewolves. If she had a problem with Derek, she should have taken it up with him directly.”

“Yes, but-” Isaac was looking torn. No doubt Scott had been pushing the ‘forgive and forget’ party-line rather heavily. “She wanted Derek to feel as badly as she did.”

Peter had yet to say anything and seemed content to sit back and watch the show, a smirk hovering at the corners of his mouth. Stiles cast the occasional wary glance in his direction, but decided since he didn’t seem to be making trouble his presence would be tolerated. For the moment, anyway.

“Look,” Stiles said, searching around for a way to get Isaac to see where he was coming from. “Your dad was a bit racist, right? I seem to remember that about him.”

“Yes,” Isaac said, frowning slightly. “I didn’t agree with his views, but I was aware of them.”

“And you loved your brother, right?” Stiles went on, feeling like an asshole, but not able to think of a better example on the fly.

“Yes,” Isaac’s face closed up slightly.

“Well, imagine that just after you heard about his death, your dad came to you and told you that it was Danny Māhealani that had killed him,” Stiles said, pressing on ruthlessly. “Imagine that you were so upset that you actually believed him.”

“But that would be incredibly stupid,” Isaac said, looking a bit taken aback. “He’d always hated the Māhealani’s. He blamed them for everything.”

“Agreed, but remember that you’re _upset_ , and _not thinking clearly_ , and that your father is _taking advantage of your grief_ ,” Stiles said, waving his hands, trying to evoke the drama of the moment. It was ruined slightly when he knocked his desk lamp over, only Peter’s reflexes keeping it from falling to the floor.

‘Right, so you’re in this heightened state, blaming Danny for everything evil under the sun, including global warming, ocean pollution, conflict in the middle east and the Republican Party,” Stiles continued. “Your father suggests that the best way to get back at Danny is to kidnap and torture his little sisters. _That_ will teach him not to mess with the Laheys.”

Isaac visibly recoiled.

“Exactly,” Stiles said, nodding. “Only someone with a really fucked up sense of right and wrong thinks that’s a good idea. Only a psychopath goes through with it. Regardless of what Allison thought Derek had done – and taking her family’s word for that was incredibly stupid, as we’ve already agreed – taking Erica and Boyd and torturing them, especially when she _knew_ that they had nothing to do with the issue… that tells me everything I need to know.”

“But she’s sorry,” Isaac said, no conviction whatsoever in his voice. It sounded very much like he was putting forth his final argument despite being convinced of its irrelevance.

“Oh, well that makes it all fine then, doesn’t it?” Stiles snorted again. “It’s perfectly okay to go around assaulting and torturing people if we say sorry afterwards. Not to mention, saying sorry doesn’t solve the underlying problem.”

“What’s the underlying problem?” Isaac asked wearily, even as Stiles’ phone beeped with an incoming message.

“She’s a psychopath,” Stiles said with a shrug, glancing at the message which held Lydia’s instructions to meet her at a park on the other side of town so they could get coffee. “It runs in her family, so it’s not terribly surprising. But I have no intention of getting any closer to her than I have to.”

Isaac still looked conflicted.

“I’m not trying to tell you what you should do,” Stiles said, rising to his feet and reaching for his wallet. “You need to decide for yourself. But be smart about it, think things over. Don’t decide based solely on what Scott wants you to do. Because _he’s_ not going to be the one to come to your rescue if it’s you she aims her sights on next. He certainly didn’t do anything to help Erica or Boyd.”

Stiles grabbed his keys and phone. “Now, I’m heading out for a while. I’ll get back to you if I find anything that looks even slightly relevant in the Bestiary.” He chivvied them out in front of him, mind already looking ahead to the upcoming chat with Lydia. There could be any number of reasons for her to summon him, and he wanted to be as ready as possible.

It wasn’t until he’d closed and locked the front door behind him that Stiles remembered that his faithful Blue Lady was undergoing treatment for the terrible way he’d been using her.

“Something wrong?”

Stiles turned to where Peter Hale was leaning against the side of the house. Oh well, it was worth a try. The worst he could do is tell Stiles to get lost.

Sure enough, Peter’s current agreeableness extended to giving Stiles a lift to the park where Lydia had texted him to meet her. Stiles was surprised to find that the drive was actually enjoyable. Peter was charming and witty, and the only thing creepy about him was Stiles’ knowledge of their shared history, and his suspicion that Peter was up to something nefarious.

Stiles was still mulling this over when they arrived. “Thanks,” he said absently, waving a hand in farewell as he scanned the area for Lydia’s familiar hair.

“Was that who I thought it was?” Lydia asked as he slowly approached the bench she was sitting on.

“If you thought that was Peter Hale, then yes it was,” Stiles replied. “The Blue Beast’s future is still uncertain, and Peter offered to give me a lift since he was heading this way.”

“What?!”

Stiles winced at the volume she managed to inject into that one word.

“I can’t believe you! How can you even think of accepting _anything_ from him after what he did to me?” Lydia’s voice turned shrill with the force of her anger.

Stiles frowned. That was a bit hypocritical, considering that to his knowledge she had resumed her friendship with Allison after everything that had happened with Gerard.

“Well, why are you friends with Allison again?” he asked, wondering if his long-time crush had even considered the similarities.

Lydia looked momentarily confused, then her eyes narrowed. “Don’t try and change the subject, Stilinski,” she gritted out. “This conversation is about Peter Hale, not Allison.”

“This conversation is about how we can accept people who have done terrible things,” Stiles returned, determined to get an answer.

“Look, what Allison did was wrong, but she’s sorry now,” Lydia said almost condescendingly, before her eyes flashed with increased ire. “But Peter violated me! What he did was unforgivable, and you of all people should know that!”

“Me of all people?” Stiles asked, raising his eyebrows.

“You were there! You saw!” Lydia said insistently.

“Yes,” Stiles agreed. “And I was also in the Argent basement, and I saw two people who had done nothing wrong being tortured. The only reason they were there was because Allison had stalked them, shot them with multiple arrows, and then dragged them home as a gift to her grandfather.”

“Look, that’s between Allison, Erica and Boyd,” Lydia said dismissively. “It has nothing to do with Allison and me. Or _Peter_ , which was the point!”

“So you’re saying that it doesn’t matter what Allison did to Erica and Boyd, because you don’t care about what happens to them,” Stiles concluded thoughtfully. “Good to know.”

“That’s not what I said at all!” Lydia snapped. “Stop twisting my words! I thought you _professed_ to be in love with me!”

“Yeah, well, now I have a better idea of who you really are,” Stiles replied with a sigh.

“You mean I’m not just a perfect, pretty doll anymore?” Lydia sneered. “I’d say I was sorry to burst your bubble, Stilinski, but that would be a lie!”

“Oh, I always knew you weren’t perfect,” Stiles said, dwelling with some wistfulness on the memory of how he used to feel about Lydia Martin. “I was attracted to your looks, of course, but it was the brain you were hiding behind the valley girl persona that really made you fascinating. I suppose I’ll always have a soft spot for that image of you that I had. But while hypocrisy is pretty ugly, your inability to admit to that hypocrisy is worse. I didn’t think you were great because you were a nice person, Lydia. You’ve never come across as a nice person. But I thought that you were at least honest about being a bitch.”

“God, you’re an asshole!’ Lydia all but spat.

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles shrugged. “I never pretended not to be. And to answer the question about Peter? My main issues with him were second hand. What he did to Scott, what he did to you. But Scott has proved that he is just as bad as Peter about requiring consent – only _he_ wasn’t insane at the time, and his bite-rape was premeditated – and _you’ve_ proved that you think holding a grudge is only important when you are the wronged party.”

Lydia sat in open-mouthed shock. Stiles didn’t bother waiting for her to gather herself before continuing.

“Turns out that Peter? Is funny, and smart, and a complete asshole,” Stiles smiled wryly. “I don’t trust him yet, and I doubt he trusts me. I doubt he’s forgotten me helping to set him on fire, after all. Still, Peter doesn’t try to make excuses for what he did.”

“He hasn’t apologised, either!” Lydia pointed out disdainfully.

“Not to _you_ , maybe,” Stiles said, and smiled mockingly at her expression of shock. “But then, I don’t think you’d be interested in hearing one, would you? Told you. Smart.”

“This discussion is over!” Lydia said, standing up and straightening out her clothing. “I don’t think I have anything further to say to you, Stilinski.”

With her head held high she stormed off, leaving him sitting on a park bench alone.

Stiles leaned back and looked at the sky. He’d been turning all of the information that Isaac had given him over in his head, and he wasn’t liking the conclusions he was forming.

It was one thing to decide to keep his distance from Allison, even knowing that it would cause a rift with Scott. It was another thing entirely to consider the possibility of widening that rift, making it permanent.

It was all too much for the moment, too many bridges were crumbling. It’s not like there were many to begin with, and he was reluctant to set one aside unless it was absolutely necessary.

He sat there for hours, going over everything he knew and conclusions that he’d drawn. In the end he wasn’t any further ahead. He got up from the bench, wincing at the lingering protests his body was still giving him after Gerard’s treatment.

Maybe he should leave it up to Scott. If Scott could respect Stiles enough to accept his feelings about Allison without making it all about him, then Stiles would leave it at that.

Even as he trudged towards the bus stop, Stiles knew how it was going to play out.

v^v^v^v

Scott ended up joining Stiles at the school lacrosse field the next day, ostensibly to practice making shots at goal. They hadn’t been there for five minutes before Scott started taking Stiles to task for ‘being mean’.

“Look, Allison’s sorry!” Scott said heatedly, jaw pushed forward defensively. “She wasn’t herself after her mother died, and Gerard took advantage of that! You can’t keep punishing her!”

“I’m hardly punishing her, Scott,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. “I’m just refusing to be friends with her, or to spend any time out of class with her. Withholding my friendship isn’t ‘punishing’ her. It’s not like we were even great friends in the first place.”

“She feels terrible, and you refusing to talk to her is making it worse!”

“God forbid that Princess Allison should get her feelings hurt. She shot people she knew very well had done no wrong with pointy arrows and then handed them over to be tortured,” Stiles returned evenly. “But because she said ‘Sorry’ we should all forgive her?”

“She wanted revenge on Derek,” Scott explained, like Stiles didn’t already know what Allison’s motivation had been. “Derek killed her mother, and she wanted him to hurt as much as she did.”

“Derek did NOT kill Victoria,” Stiles said. “Victoria killed herself, with help from Chris and Gerard.”

“Well, if Derek hadn’t bitten her, that would never have happened!”

“If _you_ hadn’t been so insistent on fucking the daughter of hunters, her mother wouldn’t have tried to kill you and Derek wouldn’t have had to save you,” Stiles pointed out. “Would you prefer Derek had let you die? Cause as far as I can see, Derek’s only error here was saving the life of an ungrateful slime bucket who then went on to conspire against him with the man who helped mastermind the murder of almost his entire family.”

Scott stood there with his mouth open, doing a rather good impression of a hungry fish. “What?”

“If Derek hadn’t saved your life, Victoria would not have been bitten,” Stiles said slowly, wondering if this had really not even occurred to Scott yet. “You would be dead, but hey, Allison wouldn’t have lost her murderous, psycho, mother!”

“Well, if Peter hadn’t bitten me Victoria wouldn’t have tried to kill me!” Scott said finally, speaking louder as if that gave his words more weight.

“If the Argent family hadn’t murdered almost an entire peaceful and stable pack, against the code that they like to bleat on about I’ll add, then Peter would never have gone on an insane revenge-fuelled rampage, would never have killed Laura, become the Alpha, and subsequently bitten you!”

“Allison is not to blame for what her family did!” Scott was shouting now.

“And Derek is not to blame for what Peter did,” Stiles returned, unruffled. “By that same logic, Allison is not to blame for what Gerard did, but then Gerard is not to blame for what Allison did. So now we’ve come full circle.”

Scott was back to doing his fish impression.

“You might want to keep something in mind,” Stiles said, rising to his feet. “Allison wasn’t the only one who screwed up big time recently. If you think that I’ve forgotten that stunt you pulled with Gerard, you can think again.”

“He threatened my mom,” Scott replied, jaw firming and eyes flashing gold. “I did what I had to do to keep her safe.”

“Yes,” Stiles nodded. “You chose to betray my trust and bite-rape Derek. It was your plan, and it was premeditated.”

“I couldn’t risk my mom! I couldn’t tell anyone!”

“If that was even true, I _might_ consider that fair,” Stiles said evenly. “But you _did_ trust someone, Scott, you trusted Deaton. So it wasn’t that you couldn’t trust anyone, it was that you couldn’t trust me.”

Scott didn’t say anything, but his jaw was set stubbornly.

Stiles shook his head. “There’s no real point in going over this,” he said with a sigh. “We’re not going to agree. But what you did to Derek shows that despite knowing the trauma of having the bite forced on you, you’re quite happy to force the bite on others. In that respect, you’re no better than Peter. In fact, you’re worse, because premeditation makes it distinctly more sinister than if it was opportunistic.”

“Why are you taking Derek’s side?” Scott said angrily. “I thought you didn’t even like him!”

“This isn’t about whether or not I like Derek. You managed to fool a born wolf with your lies,” Stiles replied. “Congratulations, I never thought you’d end up being a better liar than I am. But you were lying to me at the same time, and now I can’t be sure that you won’t throw me under the bus again the next time you feel like the situation warrants it.”

“I never did anything to you!” Scott insisted.

“You hopped into bed with Gerard Argent, and because of information you gave him my dad could have been killed,” Stiles said, holding onto his calm with an effort. “So could I, for that matter.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” Scott asked, eyes wide as if the idea was unthinkable.

Well, he was almost right. Less than two weeks ago it _would_ have been unthinkable. But two weeks could be an eternity, and Stiles had been given plenty of time to think things over while recovering from what Gerard had done to him.

“I can’t trust you anymore,” Stiles replied, something deep inside him aching horribly. “It’s become rather obvious that you don’t trust me. What kind of friendship do we even have? One based on old habits?”

“I can’t believe that you’re doing this,” Scott said hoarsely.

“What, standing up for myself? Insisting that someone who claims to be my friend, _my brother_ , treat me with a bare modicum of respect? Refusing to let a betrayal be swept under the rug? Electing not to make nicey-nice with the psychotic woman that you have a hankering to stick your dick into again?”

“But- I need you,” Scott said, shock written all over him.

“I don’t think so,” Stiles said with a sort of heavy finality. “You’ve already proved rather conclusively that you don’t.”

“But I thought you would always have my back,” Scott sounded lost.

“I would have,” Stiles shrugged. “But then you made it abundantly clear that you don’t have mine. _Your_ needs aren’t the only ones to be considered, Scott, a friendship is supposed to be bi-directional. I’m not some useful plot device that can be stuffed away in a cupboard when not in use.”

“I _never_ -” Scott started vehemently.

“Meant to, I know,” Stiles nodded. “But you did. Maybe it was naive of us to think we could remain best friends forever, especially after you were bitten. Still. Don’t look so down, Scotty, no-one’s dying. And it’s not like we can’t still be friends. But I can’t be part of your ‘pack’ anymore, and from now on I won’t automatically be taking your side in things. I’m my own side now.”

Scott looked like he was moments away from bursting into tears.

“And hey, dude,” Stiles said encouragingly. “Your mother will be pleased. You know she thinks I’m a terrible influence on you.”

Scott’s face slowly cleared. Stiles could almost see the wheels turning behind his eyes. Finally, he nodded.

“Great!” Stiles said, giving him a slap on the back. “Now, I’m gonna go, Scotty. My dad had the morning shift, so if I’m too late home he’ll start asking questions.”

v^v^v^v

This time Stiles decided to walk rather than avail himself of another form of transport. The truth was that it was still awhile before his dad would wonder what had become of him, and quite frankly Stiles could do with more time to think.

Ever since that night when Scott had been bitten, it seemed like Stiles had been ricocheting from one high stress situation to another. Now that things had seemed to calm down a bit, Stiles was left with another difficult decision.

His dad.

Initially, Stiles had made the decision to keep the Sheriff in the dark in order to protect him. He’d wanted him as far away from the crazy Alpha running around killing people as possible, and so he’d lied. He’d lied so much and for so long that it was tempting to keep lying rather than come clean.

The problem with that approach was that by now it seemed like almost everyone in town _but_ the Sheriff knew about the things that go bump in the night.

So, to tell or not to tell? There were risks inherent to either path, although Stiles was honest enough with himself to admit that the only one that really mattered to him when considering this was the safety aspect. His father’s safety more than anyone else’s.

It’s not like his father wasn’t trustworthy. He was leaps and bounds more trustworthy than Jackson Whittemore, for instance, or any of the Argent family. In fact, the only reason – other than his continued good health – that Stiles could think of _not_ to tell his dad was-

“Stiles.”

“Ahhhhhh!!” Stiles let out a manly shriek as Derek Hale appeared out of nowhere, clad in his usual armour of black leather, black denim, and black eyebrows.

“Oh my god, Derek, are you _trying_ to give me heart failure?” Stiles gasped, clutching at his chest melodramatically. “Also, can you _please_ try not to be quite so creepy?”

Derek frowned. Or, well, frowned more. “We need to talk.”

“Here I am, ears switched to the ‘on’ position and receiving you loud and clear, Sourwolf. Speak!”

“In private,” Derek said, voice heavy with significance.

“Is there someone nearby that I’m unaware of?” Stiles asked, looking around him at the almost empty street. There were a few parked cars, and there was a lady about four hundred metres in front of them pushing a pram, but otherwise they seemed alone.

“ _Stiles_ -” Derek said, managing to sound impatient and resigned at the same time.

“Fine, fine, keep your fur on,” Stiles said, raising his hands placatingly. “Take me to your secret lair where we can share our secrets secretively.”

He followed Derek’s lead, walking back the way he’d come back towards the school fields.

“You know,” Stiles said conversationally as they approached the Camaro, “right now someone with a suspicious mind might be wondering if you were eavesdropping on a private conversation I was having little bit earlier.”

“I was trying to find you,” Derek said, looking slightly uncomfortable even as they reached the car. “Isaac told me that you didn’t- that you weren’t- that you were unaware of Scott’s plans. I wanted to ask you if it was true.”

“Yes, it’s true,” Stiles said bitterly, slumping into the passenger seat and pulling the door closed. “Good old Stiles, useful as cannon fodder and to send messages, but not truly trusted by anyone it seems.” He looked out of the window as the scenery started to slide by.

“I knew Scott was betraying me,” Derek said abruptly, causing Stiles to swing around and stare at him in shock. “I didn’t know how and when it would happen, but I knew he was working with Gerard.”

“You… he…” Stiles shook his head slightly. “How?”

“I overheard something,” Derek said dismissively, taking a turn that would lead them out into the woods. “I thought you were in on it, that it was a plan you had made between you.”

“What!?” Stiles reared up angrily ready to tear Derek a new one for thinking that Stiles could have been involved in something as disgusting as what Scott had done to Derek.

“It seemed obvious,” Derek said, with shades of apology in his tone. “You and Scott… well, it just seemed obvious.”

Stiles deflated. Yeah, it probably would have seemed obvious.

“But I heard what you said to him,” Derek said after a moments silence. “I-”

“You…” Stiles said leadingly as Derek pulled off the road and onto a grassy track that led off into the trees.

“I can’t trust Scott,” Derek was once again abrupt as he pulled the Camaro around to park behind a group of bushes so that they would be hidden from anyone driving along the road. “I will probably _never_ trust Scott. But as much as I can trust anyone, I trust you.”

“But you said-” Stiles started, before he broke off, interrupting himself. “No, I get it. While I was wearing Scott’s colours I was tarred with the same brush.”

“And I couldn’t trust you. But then you broke with Scott.” Derek’s face twisted. “That must have been incredibly hard. For someone as loyal as you to make a decision like that – it must have cost you.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Stiles said with a sigh, looking back out the window again. “The choice was incredibly difficult, but now that it’s done… maybe I’m in shock or something, because I don’t feel as terrible as I expected to.”

Derek was silent, and eventually Stiles sighed again and turned to face him.

“Actually, now that I’ve got your undivided attention, there’s something I’d like to run by you,” Stiles figured now was as good a time as any to discuss bringing his father into the supernatural side of things.

“What?” Derek said warily, hands clenching on the steering wheel in a way that Stiles interpreted as uncertainty.

“It’s unfair and unsafe for my father to not know what’s really going on,” Stiles said, putting as much certainty into his voice as possible, considering he’d only made up his mind less than half a minute ago. “Especially after what happened at the sheriff’s department.”

Derek frowned, his hands relaxing.

“I know it’s not my secret to tell,” Stiles said, “which is why I didn’t just go ahead and tell him, but I _want_ to. He’s not stupid, you know, and he’ll find out eventually. Or someone will try and use him as a bargaining chip, or-”

“Yes.”

“-decide that he’s just _pretending_ , or-”

“Stiles, I said _yes_.”

“Oh,” Stiles replied lamely. “I thought it was going to be a lot harder than that.”

“The Sheriff would be a good ally to have,” Derek said. “He’s a good man. I know my parents thought he was a good man. If you believe he needs to know, then I trust your judgement.”

“Will you help me tell him?” Stiles asked hopefully. “Because saying, ‘Hey, Dad, guess what, werewolves!’ without any way to back that up is likely to get me sent to the nearest asylum.”

Derek nodded, although his hands on the steering wheel had tensed up again.

“Thanks, man,” Stiles said, relaxing back into his seat. “Maybe something good can come of this whole mess, you know? Lying to my dad has been awful. It’s not like he doesn’t know I’m lying, you know? Maybe once he knows everything he can start trusting me again.”

Derek didn’t say anything, but the silence felt amicable.

“I should probably be getting home,” Stiles said, checking the time on his phone. “The Periwinkle Princess should be released from captivity either tomorrow or the day after. Why don’t I come and find you then, and we can go over the best way to get this reveal done.”

“Fine,” Derek agreed, starting the car and making his way back to the road.

“Oh, and Derek?” Stiles said as the Camaro began picking up speed. “Think about finding somewhere better to stay. Preferably somewhere that doesn’t scream ‘I’m bad, ask me how’ to anyone who sees it.”

“I’ll take your suggestion under advisement,” Derek said dryly.

v^v^v^v

When Stiles finally got home, it was to find his father sitting at the dining room table with a mostly full beer, quite clearly waiting for him.

“Yo, Daddio,” Stiles said uneasily. “How’s things?”

“Nice and dull,” the Sheriff said, “at least until about half an hour ago.”

“Why?” Stiles asked, a little alarmed at his father’s demeanour. “What happened?”

“I had a couple of phone calls,” the Sheriff said. “Take a seat, son.”

“O-kay…” Stiles replied, sitting as ordered. He tried to think of anything that had happened in the last few days that his dad would be worried about, but he was coming up blank.

“The first was from Mrs Pembernathy,” Noah said, after Stiles had been squirming for a full minute. “She was just itching to tell me the latest gossip. About how my son had been accosted on the street by none other than that troubled Hale boy, and how he’d enticed you away with him, probably to seek vengeance for being arrested.”

“What?” Stiles’ voice squeaked out.

“She didn’t mention any hysterical screaming, which I’m sure would have accompanied an actual abduction, so I decided not to send out a search party.”

“Good!” Stiles said, thinking that any plans he’d had to delay the big reveal had pretty much crumbled. Hopefully Derek hadn’t gone too far, and wouldn’t mind coming back. “Actually, there’s something I’ve been-”

“The second call was from Melissa McCall,” the Sheriff interrupted, before taking a swig from his bottle.

Stiles closed his mouth with a click of teeth. “And…” he said when it didn’t look like his father was going to continue anytime soon.

“She said that Scott is worried about you, that you had been making friends that he didn’t approve of, and that he’s concerned you may be headed into trouble. _More_ trouble.”

For the first time in a long time, Stiles was struck completely dumb. Scott had issues about the friends that _he_ was making? Scott, who had conspired with a man known to be both mass murderer and serial killer, and who waved away the crimes of kidnap and torture because of an infatuation? Scott had the _nerve_ to set Stiles’ father against him in such an underhanded manner?

Stiles got his phone out of his pocket with hands that shook slightly and called Derek.

“Stiles?” came Derek’s startled voice. “Is something wrong?”

“It appears Scott is worried about my state of mind,” Stiles said, anger dripping off every word. “He thinks I’m keeping the wrong sort of company, and so he had his mother call my dad.”

There was a brief pause, and Stiles made out a muffled thud. “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Derek said gruffly, before hanging up.

Stiles lowered his phone and then placed it on the table, carefully not looking at his father.

“I’m going to make us some coffee,” he said, keeping his voice even and controlled with a great deal of effort. “I _had_ planned to have this conversation with you in the next couple of days, but now is as good a time as any, I suppose.”

“Don’t get angry with Scott for talking to his mom about how to help you,” the Sheriff said, sounding concerned. “Sometimes we find it hard to know what to do when someone we love is going a little off the rails, and Melissa said that you’ve been dragging Scott into trouble as well.”

“Stop!” Stiles said, gripping the edge of the kitchen bench to stop himself from losing his faltering control. “I said I will tell you _everything_! Which incidentally includes that I’ve recently discovered that Scott _knew_ the sheriff’s department was going to be attacked, and didn’t bother warning anyone! He _sent them there_! Today I told Scott that next time he blames Derek Hale for something _he was perfectly aware that Derek had not done_ , I won’t be backing him up! That I don’t condone his on/off girlfriend assaulting, abducting, and torturing our schoolmates, and that I won’t ignore that it happened in order to make her feel better!”

“ _What_?” the Sheriff said, and Stiles turned to see that his father had gone pale.

“Scott has been my best friend for most of my life, and it was _hard_ making that choice!” Stiles spat, still too angry to let go of the counter. “It would have been easier deciding to give up a kidney! And then he does _this_!”

“Stiles-” his father said, pushing his half full beer bottle away and rising to his feet.

“I told him that I wasn’t going to sweep his betrayal under the rug!” Stiles ranted. “I told him that I couldn’t trust him anymore! Apparently I didn’t even know the half of it!”

“STILES!” the Sheriff said, placing a hand on each of Stiles’ shoulders, holding him up when he collapsed backwards, leaning heavily against the bench behind him. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” Stiles said, his manic energy of a few moments before gone, leaving him feeling drained and sad. “I’ve been lying to you for months, sometimes for your own protection, sometimes to protect Scott. Sometimes because I didn’t have time to give you the full story. It’s not surprising that you’d think the worst of me.”

“I’ve been _worried_ about you,” the Sheriff said. “You’ve been getting further and further away from me, and I didn’t know what to do. I was worried that pushing too hard might drive you to leave, and then where would I be? You’re all I’ve got left in the world.”

“Well, it’s time to lay everything out on the table,” Stiles replied. “I’m going to get this coffee, and you might as well make yourself comfortable. Once Derek gets here I think we’re going to be in for a _long_ afternoon.”

“Derek again?” the Sheriff said with raised eyebrows. There was the familiar growl of the Camaro outside. “No, no, the explanations can wait. I’ll get the door, shall I? You get the coffee sorted.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, but he was grinning as he turned back to his task. It was going to be alright, he could tell.

Sure enough, the Sheriff took the existence of werewolves with considerably more aplomb than Stiles had been expecting. Of course, it probably helped that they weren’t currently in a life and death situation, and Derek had such superb control that Stiles wasn’t the least bit concerned about his father’s safety even if his dad _had_ gone off the deep end.

“So the ‘wild animal attacks’ that have been happening?” the Sheriff asked when he saw Derek’s claws.

“Either a supernatural or supernatural-adjacent was responsible for all the ones I’m aware of,” Stiles said with a sigh.

“What is supernatural-adjacent?”

“Why don’t I tell you about everything that’s happened since you found me in the Preserve that night you were searching for Laura Hale,” Stiles suggested, feeling that most of his father’s questions would probably be answered along the way.

“Fine, but I’m getting some notepaper so that I don’t forget any questions that I come up with.”

“Fine!” Stiles replied, throwing Derek a dirty look when he saw the smirk at the corner of his mouth.

“I think I know where your passion for knowing _everything_ comes from,” Derek said. “The apple didn’t fall far from that tree.”

“Laugh it up, fang-boy,” Stiles said, a smirk stealing across his face in reply. “This just means there are going to be _two_ of us pumping you for information in the future.”

“I’ll send Peter,” Derek said with a shrug, smirk growing.

“Peter Hale?” the Sheriff said, dropping a legal pad and some pens on the dining room table. “Your uncle Peter, who has been declared missing, presumed dead?”

“All part of the story,” Stiles said, frowning at Derek who was no longer smirking. “Now, the first thing you need to know is that Scott was out with me in the Preserve that night. I got caught by the law, don’t roll your eyes at me, but Scott was bitten by what he afterwards described to me as some sort of wolf creature.”

The Sheriff cast a swift glance at Derek, but directed his question to Stiles. “Are you saying that Scott is a werewolf?”

“Oh yes,” Stiles nodded. “The wolf in the Preserve had lured Laura back to Beacon Hills so he could kill her for her Alpha power. Then he cut her in half so that Derek would think that Hunters were responsible.”

“Hunters?” the Sheriff repeated. “Why don’t I like the sound of that?”

“Because you are a very perceptive man,” Stiles replied. “Something you passed down to your only offspring.”

“Now, this werewolf that bit Scott,” the Sheriff said, making a note. “Was that your uncle Peter?”

“Yes and no,” Derek said reluctantly. “After the fire, Peter was left in a coma with horrific burns. He required more care than we could give him, but we couldn’t take him with us because getting that care for him would make us too easy for Hunters to track. We had no way of knowing if he would ever recover, and so my sister made the choice to keep what pack she had left as safe as possible. That meant that Peter was left here, in constant pain from both the burns and the severed pack bonds, and no pack to comfort him. It’s not surprising that he went insane.”

“That’s not the story you gave me last time,” Stiles said accusingly.

Derek sighed. “I’ve had a lot more time to think about it since then,” he replied. “Also, I was pretty sure that no one wanted to talk about Peter anymore.”

“That’s true,” Stiles said reluctantly. He’d been hoping to put his days of throwing Molotov cocktails at people behind him. He winced when he realised he’d be telling his dad all about that shortly.

“Right, well, Scott had all these new abilities,” Stiles said hurriedly. “His asthma was gone, he could hear, see, and smell things much better, he was much stronger, and he healed much quicker. All of a sudden he was first line on the lacrosse team with a pretty girl interested in him and an invitation to hang out with the ‘in crowd’. Naturally he was sickened by ‘the horror’ of what he’d become, and wanted to ignore it for as long as possible.”

“Is that sarcasm, bitterness, or a hint of both?” the Sheriff asked knowingly.

“I would say definitely both,” Stiles replied. “Anyway, it wasn’t long before he was telling me about being chased in the woods and shot with arrows.”

“What? Someone was shooting at _people_ with arrows?” there was anger mixing with the surprise in the Sheriff’s voice. “Who?”

“It was Chris Argent,” Stiles said, lip curling derisively. “The whole Argent family are ‘Hunters’. They run around the place with their heavy arms and their SUV’s, supposedly taking out anything supernatural that goes rogue. At least, that was the party-line that Allison tried to sell us. Mind you, _she_ got her introduction from Psycho Kate, so I’d take anything she said with a pound of salt.”

“Left a bit out, did she?” the Sheriff asked dryly.

“Only a bit,” Stiles said sarcastically. “They have this ‘code’ that they’re supposed to follow. ‘ _Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent_ ’. Apparently it translates to ‘We hunt those who hunt us’, meaning supernatural creatures who have proved themselves to be a danger to humans. However, in practice, I reckon a better more truthful motto would be ‘ _Nous prenons du plaisir à torturer et tuer qui nous voulons putain_ ’.”

“What does that translate to?” the Sheriff raised an eyebrow.

Stiles grinned “Something like ‘We get our rocks off torturing and murdering whoever the fuck we want to’,” he replied, smirking as Derek choked on his coffee.

“Surely the whole family can’t be that bad?” the Sheriff asked.

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Psycho Kate enjoyed seducing a fifteen year old boy and then burning his whole family alive when she knew he wasn’t going to be home, coming back a few years later to torture him some more, taunt him about how she’d killed everyone he’d ever loved, and then using him as a target dummy for her darling niece’s initiation into hunting.

“Psycho Victoria didn’t like that her precious daughter was sullying herself with a werewolf. At first she seemed content with Allison and Scott promising to stop dating, but when she discovered they were still sleeping together she decided the best way to handle things was to murder Scott.”

“What?!”

“Oh yes. And Psycho Victoria was probably the brains of that operation, she chose a method that might have worked, and even been ruled non-suspicious. She cornered him and then filled the room with a gaseous form of wolfsbane. It caused hallucinations and was depressing his breathing. He would have died, and it would probably have been ruled an asthma attack, if Derek hadn’t come to save him.”

The Sheriff cast an appreciative glance Derek’s way. Derek was hunched over his coffee mug, eyes down on the table. Stiles frowned, wondering what that was about.

“Unfortunately in the kerfuffle Derek, who was affected by the aerated wolfsbane as well, accidentally bit Psycho Victoria with a turning bite. Naturally, this was a fate worse than death, literally. With help from Psycho Chris and Psycho Gerard, she killed herself.”

Stiles watched as his dad grimaced with distaste. “But wait, it gets better. Allison is told – by her psycho werewolf hating family – that Derek killed her mother, on purpose, because he’s an evil werewolf, and they do that sort of thing you know. She decides that she’s going to kill Derek in revenge. And maybe shoot, kidnap and torture the rest of his pack as well, just to teach him a lesson.”

“What are Chris and Gerard doing during all of this?” the Sheriff asked.

“Oh, Psycho Gerard is doing everything he can to turn his granddaughter into a younger version of her aunt,” Stiles said cynically. “While Psycho Chris is being a dutiful member of the House Argent and following orders. Like the ones to shoot, kidnap, and string up Erica Reyes and Vernon Boyd in the Argent basement, for the crimes of being werewolves and being affiliated with Derek.”

“Reyes and Boyd are werewolves too? And where was Scott during all of this?”

“Also Isaac Lahey. As for Scott, well, Psycho Gerard threatened Scott’s mom, so _he_ decided to pretend to work with him but then secretly double-crossed him at the last minute. Sort of. It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“You don’t need to keep repeating that they’re psycho. I get the picture. What were _you_ up to?”

“Well, Derek wasn’t trusting me cause I was on Scott’s side, Scott wasn’t trusting me cause apparently I have less cause to want to save his mom than Dr Deaton, and Gerard decided the best use for me was to abduct me, threaten me, and beat me up, all within view of Erica and Boyd, who were strung up and being electrocuted constantly, as some sort of message. I was never sure if it was to Scott or Derek, but I didn’t really feel like hanging around to ask.”

“ _Gerard Argent put those marks on you_?!”

Stiles couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his father looking quite so angry. “He grabbed me after the game. Remember that ‘code’ I was telling you about? Chris Argent said something along the lines of ‘In the old days, this family had standards’, which, as I thought at the time, is really no fucking use _right now_.”

“Chris Argent knew about all of this?”

“Oh yes,” Stiles replied. “He let Erica and Boyd go, and promised he didn’t just go out and get them again. Mind you, since he was one of the ones responsible for them being there in the first place, he’s not getting any gold stars, and quite frankly, I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.”

“Wait, you’re skipping ahead, I think. Go back to the beginning,” the Sheriff commanded. “And go slower, we’ve got nowhere else we need to be tonight. Unless- Derek? Will you need to leave?”

“No, I’m fine,” Derek said, still looking hunched in on himself.

Stiles was wondering what that was about, when he realised that he’d blurted out all of the sordid details of Psycho Kate’s statutory rape to his father only minutes ago.

“Shit,” he said. “I’m sorry, Derek. I didn’t… I promise I won’t ever tell anyone ever again. It wasn’t my right. I’m really sorry.”

“How did you know?” Derek asked, gripping at the sleeves of his henley. “I’ve never told anyone, not even Laura.”

“Oh. Well, I kind of just put it together,” Stiles said, looking anxiously at his father for some kind of help. “Some of the things she said, and the way you were reacting, and the fire, and Peter…”

“You’re not to blame for the criminal acts of others,” the Sheriff said calmly. “Including when someone a decade your senior preys on you sexually. Now, I won’t talk about this again unless you bring the subject up. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m always ready to listen, or I can give you the number of several very good therapists who specialise in sexual assault.”

Derek nodded, eyes firmly on the table.

Stiles really didn’t like seeing Derek look so… reduced. “So, Daddio, if we’re going back to the beginning, it might not be a bad idea to get dinner delivered. Cause if you think I can tell you about werewolf shenanigans _and_ cook at the same time, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Pizza?” the Sheriff said hopefully.

Stiles snorted. “Nice try, old man,” he replied. “We’re getting Thai.”

“Fine,” the Sheriff said, leaning back in his chair. “Well, so far it looks like you’ve managed to get yourself into the middle of a right mess, kid, but from the sounds of it you’ve been doing alright. I wish you’d told me earlier.”

“At first it seemed exciting, you know?” Stiles said, twiddling his fingers to give himself something to look at. “Scott was a werewolf, yay. Then it got really scary really quickly. We didn’t know who the Alpha was, and I was worried that you’d end up caught in the crossfire. Before too long it seemed like there was a life and death situation around every corner, and how could I tell you? But then this latest thing with Gerard, and I just-”

“Stiles, hey,” his dad said with the same kind of awkward gentleness that he showed whenever Stiles had a panic attack. “I know you had your reasons. I’m not saying I agree with them, mind you, but regardless, that’s in the past. We can go forward from here. But first, you need to tell me everything. We can start with what an ‘Alpha’ is.”

“Well, that’s actually one of the easy ones,” Stiles said, smirking at Derek. “Let’s order dinner, and then we can try this again.”

v^v^v^v

When Stiles woke the next morning, he realised that it was now two weeks since the showdown with the Argents. Two weeks, and yet everything had changed.

He and Scott had suffered a break that Stiles wasn’t sure was going to be repairable. He wasn’t sure he even wanted it to be. The trust was no longer just broken, it was shattered. Ground into powder and scattered to the winds. It was the kind of break that he knew would change his life, but for better or for worse it had happened, and now he needed to move forward.

His infatuation with Lydia had well and truly died. He could still admire her good qualities, but he no longer felt himself getting weak kneed at the thought of her. It was unlikely that she would be forgiving him anytime soon, so that fledgling friendship had also bitten the dust.

On the other hand, his relationship with his father had never been stronger. The Sheriff had decided that he needed to cut down his hours slightly, because if this much had been going on behind his back then he was obviously leaving his teenaged son unsupervised way too often. Stiles outwardly groaned about being old enough to look after himself, but inwardly he was delighted. Together the two Stilinski’s were poised to dive right into the deep end of the supernatural pool and Stiles couldn’t be happier about it.

Peter Hale was back amongst the living, and Stiles had decided that all things considered, he deserved another chance. Not that he wouldn’t be keeping an eye on him, but considering the circumstances of Peter’s homicidal killing spree were unlikely to be repeated, he could maybe be given the benefit of the doubt. For now, at least.

How Isaac decided to react to recent events was still up in the air. Who he decided to back was his decision, Stiles just hoped he made it for the right reasons, and not just because he wanted Scott to like him.

Which only left Derek. Derek who tried to do good, but seemed to have a knack for getting things wrong. Not that it was at all unsurprising that he would be a mess, given the amount of shit that had gone down in his life. He still had yet to share much about the life he’d had with Laura between the fire and her death, and Stiles was almost afraid to ask. He couldn’t see how hearing about their good life or their bad life could in anyway help the situation here. Whatever it had been like, it was over now. If it was good it was just another thing Derek had lost, if it was bad it was just more trauma heaped onto an already traumatised man.

Well, the past was the past, it was time to look forward. Derek now had two allies that were invested not only in his prosperity, but his happiness as well. Today they were going to go over plans to try and locate Erica and Boyd, to ensure that they were okay wherever they’d decided to go. In the meantime it was morning, and Stiles felt like making pancakes.

It was going to be a good day.


End file.
